The Suite Life
by DESPERAD0
Summary: “No I’m not going to tell you that I wrote you 365 letters, one for every day of the year,” said Miroku calmly “I wrote you 4 letters and you never wrote back, so I gave up.” Love can't be renewed in a mere 2 days, so what's this familiar feeling? [S&M]
1. Chapter 01

**A/N:** Hello, after a 3 month break I've come back! I was hoping to improve my writing skills so I came up with this little ficlet. I don't think this will be as long as my other story Someone Out There, and hopefully this one will be better (in terms of plot, length per chapter and writing style) so feedback would be awesome. There isn't much yet to this chapter, but it sets up the setting and gives you a rough background on how the characters are set up.

**Warnings:** This is an AU (alternate universe), I have taken creative license with the characters and made them into how I want them to be (eg. Kikyou is Miroku's cousin) just because this makes things more fun. Oh yes, there will be no Kikyou bashing here, I'm tired of people writing her down like a bitch. There will be mild cursing. Standard stuff, nothing heavy.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha. But I would love to have Jakotsu for the night ;D

* * *

**The Suite Life**

"Inuyasha, give me back my shirt!" hollered Miroku as he tried to fasten his buttons while running down the hall to beat his friend to the washroom. This was how it was every morning: a race without a set destination or any order at all. It would've worked a lot better if they planned who was going to make breakfast and who gets the early morning shower. But of course, who makes a schedule anyways? Not them, that's for sure.

"I'm kind of busy here," replied a muffled voice behind shower curtains. Miroku cursed as he realized that Inuyasha already had beaten him to the shower and probably is taking up all the hot water in the entire apartment. Inuyasha likes his showers scalding hot and insists that 30 minutes was the average time to wash clean.

Miroku checked to see if the curtain was securely closed before entering the bathroom. "Are you done sterilizing yourself in there?" asked Miroku as he jammed the toothbrush into his mouth.

"Almost. Be glad I woke up half an hour early just for you," grumbled Inuyasha, rinsing once more before turning the water off. "Can you throw me my towel?"

Miroku rolled his eyes as he walked over to the rack and threw him a fluffy pink one. Droplets of toothpaste trailed where he walked.

"Ugh, I'm trying to sleep here," groaned a third voice, which was female.

"Kikyou wake up damn it! Inuyasha, I thought it was your turn to wake her up," called Miroku, bits of toothpaste spraying out of his mouth. The two guys and one girl have been rooming for over a year now. Inuyasha was quite the neat freak and insisted that being clean as a "house rule." Miroku on the other hand didn't care if the spice cupboard was lined alphabetically or if the whites don't belong with the darks in laundry. Kikyou was the in-between, the gray between the black and white, she didn't care much for neatness but wasn't a total slob like Miroku.

"By the way, your tie is on the second hook next to your white shirts in the closet, right where you left it last time," said Inuyasha as he left the bathroom, inadequately dressed in a towel. He went back to his room and threw on his work uniform and went into the kitchen to start making breakfast.

"Kikyou wake up before I slap you with my spatula," yelled Inuyasha as he flipped three eggs onto plates. He proceeded cooking the bacon and jammed bread into the toaster. He nodded satisfied when he heard water running from Kikyou's bathroom.

"I hate you," grimaced Kikyou a moment later, hair wet from the shower and looked at him with a deadly eye. Inuyasha nodded and kept his mouth shut. His patience was usually reserved for Kikyou, especially during the morning when she hadn't had her orange juice yet. "Where's is it?" asked Kikyou grumpily, her head inside the fridge. Inuyasha tapped her on the shoulder and fed her the orange juice and waited.

"I feel much better," said Kikyou sarcastically, but her mood considerably lightened. Inuyasha shook his head and handed the cup to her and went back to cooking.

"Did she have her orange-juice-decaf yet?" asked Miroku, sticking his head out cautiously in case daggers were sent flying from Kikyou.

"Good Morning to you too sweetheart," she muttered dryly. Kikyou glanced at Inuyasha to see if he was looking. Nope, too immersed in his egg benedict. She casually carried her toast over to the living room to sit down. No sooner had her butt touched the couch, he called out, "You know I don't like crumbs in the living room."

Miroku snickered, watching his roommate get in trouble. Kikyou stuck out her tongue and he retaliated. "Stop being childish and eat. We'll be late for work…" ordered Inuyasha, "Again," he added, flickering his glance to Miroku. Miroku mouthed 'what?' innocently but no one paid attention.

"We could've gotten McDonalds for breakfast and catch a few more winks," suggested Miroku.

"McDonalds is shit. They'll clog up your arteries before you can say cholesterol," snapped Inuyasha. "And what's wrong with my cooking anyways?"

Kikyou was about to say that the grease in the bacon was enough for two Big Macs but wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Nothing is wrong with your cooking. But aren't you the one who feeds of ramen every lunch?"

No sooner had that left his mouth a frying pan came hurling at his face. Miroku will never learn.

& & & & & &

"I swear Kikyou, that bellhop was checking you out!" exclaimed Miroku, throwing his hands out in resignation.

"You sure he wasn't looking at _you_?" retorted Kikyou as she sorted out the papers. "Move over!" she said as he pushed him aside. "Good morning Mr. … Robinson!... how are you today?" Kikyou greeted the customer with an extra dose of sugar in her voice. Miroku shuddered at the unusual sweetness of his co-worker/roommate's voice instead of the usual cynic that dwelled in her tone.

Miroku poked Kikyou with a letter opener. Kikyou turned around to rifle through the packages the delivery boy dropped off.

"I know what you're going to say. No Mr. Robinson was not checking me out. I will not date him. Yes he's too old. No he's not my type. I will not open the top 4 buttons on my shirt and…"

"Actually I'm just trying telling you that he's still here," Miroku cut in meekly.

"Oh," replied Kikyou obviously embarrassed but not enough to show a blush. She looked up at the elderly (and rich) gentleman and handed him the keycard to his deluxe suite. "The bellhop over there will take your luggage for you," she chirped, gracing the flustering bellhop with a fake smile. The bellhop looked so sickly happy he could faint.

"I didn't know you could act that graceful," said Miroku, leaning on the counter once again, rummaging through her stuff.

"It's for work," she replied flatly, all honey dripped dry.

"You know, if you acted just a **bit** more feminine, you could get a date!" he said absentmindedly, pocketing some pens and notepaper the hotel provided…for _guests_.

Kikyou slapped his hand away. "Does my social life really spark that much interest in you? Or are you trying to live your dreams through me since your love life is hopeless?"

"Ooo touché but too bad what you said isn't true. Maybe I just care about you deeply," he said putting one hand across his heart, feigning a 'swooning' look. Kikyou rolled her eyes and started sorting through the mail.

"Miroku if you don't stop taking the hotels' stationary I will use those scissors you just took and cut your bal-"

Miroku stopped before she continued her sentence. "Language Kikyou. You're head of secretary at a five star hotel for goodness sakes. You can just go around threatening to cut people's precious …things… off."

"Only yours," she smiled affectionately. Precious, ha.

"Back on track," said Miroku doing the winding film motion with his hands, "why won't you give that bloody bellhop a chance?"

"Hopeless love life…"

"I've had more lays than **you** ever will!"

"Which proves **how** damn hopeless it is!" snapped Kikyou.

"Okay calm down. Do you want some orange juice?"

"Shut up."

"I'll remember to bring you some next time. Do you have any more of these stickers? I think they're really cute."

"They're for the children Miroku, now stop! Don't you have to wash the dishes or something. Kitchen work…"

"I don't do dishes," sniffed Miroku.

"Room service?"

"Yes I do that. But _not_ dishes."

"…"

"Back on track, when will **you** get a date?"

"When **you** stop dating."

"Well that's a never…so you'll die a virgin?"

"Who says I am one?" cried Kikyou frustrated.

"Oooooh" chorused the workers at the reception table including Miroku.

"Shut up or I'll make you all work midnight shift," snapped Kikyou once again. They all shrank away back to their holes. Miroku made a mental note to not hold back on the orange juice next time he visits. Miroku waited until she was finish checking in and attending the 5 people who were in line.

"So Kikyou, what kind of men do you like?"

"Ones that don't pry into other people's lives."

"Got that message loud and clear," teased Miroku. "No but really. Let's see… who's that guy with silvery white hair?"

Kikyou narrowed his eyes at him, her hand slowly feeling around for something to hurt him with. Miroku was oblivious.

"Sesshomaru was it not? Inuyasha's half brother…" he thought aloud. Nosy co-workers tried to not pay attention but the move-by-move-matrix-like slowness proved that they were trying hard to listen in. Kikyou narrowed her eyes and grabbed Miroku by the ear. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

"Of course it's not him," Miroku covered lamely.

"Don't you have some place to **be**? You are such a slacker, it's a wonder why you aren't fired yet."

"Aww don't be so mean. You're my favorite cousin!" said Miroku, putting on a cheeky grin. "And besides, I'm on my break."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No. You are not."

"No I'm not," he agreed. Kikyou didn't say anything as she typed on her computer and answered the phone at the same time. "You work too much Kikyou. You're like, an overachiever. That's not good." She rolled her eyes in response and kept working.

"I'm not as stupid as you think I am…"

Kikyou paused on the phone, "No. You're as stupid as you look."

Miroku batted away the insult. It was nothing new. "I know the little looks you give that someone. I mention silver hair and you get all worked up." A pen flew his way but he caught it and pocketed it.

"And," he continued, "You treat him much nicer than you treat me. Granted I can be a bit '_concerned _' about your life, and you don't like that. But still!" Kikyou put her finger warningly over button '2' for security. Miroku smirked at her, daring her to press it.

So she obliged. Within 10 seconds, 2 burly men in navy suits were making a beeline towards the counter. "I'm telling you Kikyou, Inuyasha won't stay single forever!" he said dramatically as he ran back to his work. Kikyou rolled her eyes (for the umpteenth time this morning) and got back to her work, pushing the nagging Miroku voices out of her head.

& & & & & &

"Room 302 is asking for two coffees a-sap," said Miroku as he rushed around putting all the orders onto the cart. "And don't forget that one of them likes less cream and more sugar, with a bit of whipped cream on the side. And the other likes theirs half sugar, half low fat cream and an extra packet of sugar on the side just in case."

"What's a sap?" asked Inuyasha. "And how do you remember those things?"

"A-S-A-P dumbass. And because I take the time to get to know our highly valued customers."

"Just exactly **_what_** kind of room service are you giving them?" eyed Inuyasha suspiciously. Miroku just smiled as he poured out the stationary he stole from Kikyou onto the counter.

"Wow, only two pens?" Inuyasha peered over Miroku's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm losing my touch," he sighed rubbing his temple. "But I managed to get these stickers this time," he held them up excitedly, his eyes sparkling. Miroku had the hope and look of a 5 year old, but definitely not the naivety.

"Oh these would look **_great_** on the ice buckets you stole a week ago," he replied dryly as he poured icing into the bag, screwed on the star-tip and began decorating the wedding cake.

"_That_ was hilarious," laughed Miroku remembering the escapade.

"No it wasn't. **I** got blamed for it!" objected Inuyasha. More laughs from Miroku.

"Why would a CHEF steal an ice bucket? It makes no fucking sense," he cursed, squinting at the cake in front of him.

"Inuyasha…"

"What?" he snapped.

"What are you doing?"

"Decorating a cake asswipe, now get to work!"

Miroku shook off the déjà vu feeling he got. _Obviously someone hung around Kikyou too much_, he thought staring at Inuyasha. "I meant, what are you doing with your life!"

"Oh. Well working here."

"**For life**?"

"Yeah. Unless I get fired or something. Don't see why they would though," gloated Inuyasha.

"So you're going to be 40, living in our apartment alone, decorating wedding cakes for other people for the rest of your life?" said Miroku, raising his eyebrows. Inuyasha squirted icing at his face. "Hey!" Inuyasha smirked and went back to work as Miroku tried to rub all the icing off blindly.

"Go to work and quit worrying about other people's lives. I would've thought you had enough of your daily gossip from Kikyou already…didn't figure you would bother me now," mumbled Inuyasha.

"Oh don't get your panties in a bunch, Mama's boy," said Miroku, grinning widely waiting for Inuyasha's reaction.

"Do you find joy in antagonizing my life?" growled Inuyasha, finding something to throw at Miroku.

"No. But hey, maybe chicks dig that stuff!"

Ahah! He found a steak-fork. Inuyasha made a mock motion of polishing off the utensil, ready to go for the kill.

"I'm saying you look very cool in those pictures you insist on hanging around in your kitchen-office," stammered Miroku, chuckling nervously. Inuyasha stepped closer.

"Uh, what I meant was, normally kids would look geeky with their mom…" Two steps closer, an inch away from being castrated.

"But you look absolutely cool. Like a punk! You can barely tell that you're a Mama's boy." Inuyasha calmly grabbed Miroku by the collar and gripped the knife tighter. "You look cute with her Inuyasha, really. Like a younger boyfriend…" blurted out Miroku, desperately trying to cover up.

"Wrong answer," said Inuyasha, shaking his head with a fake look of menace in his eye. Well, Miroku couldn't tell if it was fake menace or not, but he wasn't going to stick around and find out. He ran out of the kitchen, only to madly dash back 3.2 seconds later, grabbed the cart and _then_ bolted.

& & & & & &

"Someone should really knock some sense into both of their heads," muttered Miroku, still feeling a slight numbness in his butt as Inuyasha "goodheartedly" kicked him. Even he noticed how deadly transparent both of those two were with their affections for each other and yet no one makes a move. "Not to mention having someone pull out the stick he's always got up his ass."

"Room service," he called out, knocking on the door. He heard a girl calling out 'coming!' and footsteps running. The door swung open and the girl stood, slightly flustered. Miroku did a once over. _Not bad_, he thought.

The girl had dark brown hair, clean swept bangs and slightly wavy hair. She was not too short (about up to his nose), wasn't too skinny and definitely had all the curves in the right places. It took everything in Miroku not to let out a jousting whistle. _Not bad at all!_

"Miroku! Is that you?"

In a flicker, he recognized the girl in front of him. In all his life, he would've never thought that she would come back. Never thought of all places he'd meet her again _here_, in front of the "Couple's Suite". There he saw her. _Sango_.

* * *


	2. Chapter 02

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews everyone :) I am so happy that I managed to finish another chapter of this story! Here is the second installment of The Suite Life. Special thanks to lilsanoku105 for reminding me about Kuranosuke. I totally forgot about him! But since you mentioned, I think he shall be in this story. Also, does this remind anyone of Eloise? I get my inspiration from that movie :)

**Warnings:** AU, mild swearing, OOCness for some characters (not too far off, just taken creative license with it and made them more fun and lovable to write about)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha. Anyone willing to lend me Jakotsu?

* * *

**The Suite Life**

"Sango." _Why_ _are you back? How come you never wrote? What are you doing in a **Couple's** Suite? _Miroku would love to say these (corny? cheesy?) things but it seemed that the only thing he could do was stand there and gape. He was rendered speechless, and he stood there (like an idiot) holding the ice bucket in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other, like a good waiter would do.

"Hello Miroku, it's been so long," smiled Sango, her eyes shy. Miroku nodded, smiling politely. _Say something idiot._

"How are you?" Pleasantries, great! If Miroku could've mentally slapped himself, he would. Sango let out a small laugh, a sound that would sound most pleasant in Miroku's ears as long as it was coming from her.

"I'm fine. You look well Miroku," she commented.

And it was true. He was anything but less than handsome. His black button-up shirt was neatly ironed and pressed against his body, well-fitting; the white tie that was required by all staff to wear was hung loosely around his neck; the half-apron tied around his waist over the black slacks that shaped his legs nicely. His black hair was neatly cut, bangs slightly array from moving around all day; his skin had a faded tan (than the pale white he use to have) from driving outside during summer. Amethyst eyes glimmer as he smiled, melting into the pools of the others' eyes. He was quite the package indeed.

Miroku was about to reply with a charming remark of his own when another voice interrupted. "Sango? Is the champagne ready?" It was a man's voice coming from inside her room. He looked at her questioningly. She smiled apologetically and without a word she took the champagne and ice bucket from Miroku's hands and went back into her room. The door closed with a silent echo through the halls.

"So that's how it's going to be huh?" said Miroku lightly, his eyebrows raised with an indescribable look. He shrugged and smiled and continued down the list of people he needed to serve.

& & & & & &

"Mr. Yakima I can not give you an extra breakfast coupon just because you 'lost' yours. Even if I allow it, our hotel policies won't," said Kikyou in a strained voice, repeating what she said over and over again to this 'senile' man for the past 10 minutes. "But I did lose it," he protested in a sorry-pathetic-whiny voice.

"Sorry Mr. Yakima. Perhaps you would like one of these coupons to our Cocktail Extravaganza? You look like you could use some cheering up."

"Cocktail my hemorrhoid asshole, bitch," he bit back, shuffling away. Kikyou snarled under her breath with another insult but was cut short––

"Orange juice delivery for Miss Kikyou!"

"Go away Miroku." said Kikyou, closing her eyes praying. _It's only lunch. It's only lunch. He will be gone when I open my eyes._ Eyes opened. He was there. Tough luck.

Miroku plopped the carton of Tropicana onto her desk, curly ribbons wrapped around the box with a fancy bow at the top. Hotel stickers were stuck all over the carton and a plastic twirly spiral straw was taped on the side. It was rather sweet. Miroku stood there expectantly, smiling.

"Thank you," she forced out, smiling a bit. A little bit.

"You're welcome. Only doing my job," shrugged Miroku, a bit of emphasis on 'job' so she won't nag him about slacking. "It's from Inuyasha."

"Really?" said Kikyou casually.

"Yes, he said you were a bit tense."

"Really?" This time with genuine surprise.

"Yep. I told him you were being a frigid bitch again so he sighed. I mean _pft_, sighing? Who sighs anyways––" Kikyou channeled out of Miroku's endless blabber and fingered the curls on the ribbons. Really nice.

"––and I can't believe he would steal the stickers I worked so hard on to steal from you and stick it there––"

It was certainly an odd gift, but the right thing to cheer her up. It wasn't the fact that it was orange juice (although no doubt she was a fanatic about it) but the thought was very sweet. And when you have a hopeless crush on someone, anything they do seems sweet. _Wait, hopeless crush?_ frowned Kikyou.

"––you got to be the fair one. I'm not whining but he kicked me real hard today and––"

Miroku was such a whiner and the funny thing is, he thought Kikyou would listen to him. She must be real good at this zoning out thing. She quickly typed the last of the day's reports onto the computer, saved it and turned it off.

"––so he asked if you were busy or not, so naturally I said busy––"

"Wait **what**?"

"I said you were busy," blinked Miroku.

"No the other part," said Kikyou evenly.

"Oh, he asked if you were busy or not because he wanted to take you out to dinner or something."

"Are you going to be there?" _Please say no,_ begged Kikyou praying to whoever could be up there. _God, Mohammed, Buddha…anyone please._

"I'm busy tonight," said Miroku absentmindedly.

Kikyou noted the vague tone but didn't comment on it. She thanked her lucky stars that Miroku had something to occupy himself other than her possible shot at the man of her dreams. _Man of my dreams? What the fuck is wrong with me today?_ she thought, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"So are you going to go?" said Miroku, grinning a million watts. Uh oh.

"Yes. And no," she put up her hand stopping him, "you do not need to help me pick out an outfit." Miroku opened his mouth to protest but was cut short by the strip of stickers in front of him.

"Now, go."

He gave a little salute and waved the stickers as he went back to the kitchen. _Yep, it's easy to shut him up if you know the right thing to do._

& & & & & &

"Hi Miroku!" chirped a young boy's voice. He was a 6 year old boy that lived in the plaza. Shippou, the boy, lived on the very top floor and was well known throughout the entire hotel staff. To put it nicely, he was rather self-centered.

"Hello Skippy," saluted Miroku. Shippou saluted back proudly. "Whatcha up to?" said Shippou, skipping along beside Miroku.

"Well, I still have to work but I get my 2 hour break starting at 5:45," said Miroku loading the cart with a variety of cakes. The Terrace Room was holding a bachelor's tea-party and the food needed to arrive there before the people do. He found it quite strange that _a bachelor party_ was going to be at a high class hotel, and so…civil. Miroku always imagined his' to be wild, with booze and loud music and all that good stuff. Aside from catering, he also had to play the piano that night.

A piano at a** Bachelor's **(tea!)party. He still can't get it over his head at how weird (and stupid) it sounds.

"Whatcha doing tonight?" asked Shippou, climbing onto the metal table in the kitchen, dipping his finger into the bowl to taste the icing.

"I have to work, again," said Miroku good-naturedly. Shippou groaned.

"Want to help me set up the room? You can sort the dinner napkins if you want," smiled Miroku, bending down to eye level with the boy. He was quite fond of the boy, even though Shippou can be really demanding. Maybe it's because he love kids a lot.

"What, no date tonight?" teased Shippou. Miroku pretended to think for a moment, "Well I have you…"

Shippou let out a squeak, yelled _GROSS!_ and ran out. He came back 2.4 seconds later. "So I'll meet you at the Terrace Room at 5:01 sharp!" and then he ran out again.

Letting out a chuckle, he put the last cake onto the cart and wheeled it out. He wheeled faster as the elevator ahead was closing. "Wait up!"

The bellboy inside quickly pressed open the door to let Miroku in. "Hi Miroku!"

Miroku looked up and saw Sango. "Funny we didn't see each other for years and now we bump into each other twice on the same day huh?"

"What, had enough of me already?" teased Miroku. Sango pursed her lips and looked up on the elevator numbers, watching it move down. She fiddled with her purse, and then her dress. Looked around but quickly looked down as she realized the entire elevator was mirrors and each of them bounced back in image of her and Miroku. She examined her fingernails and played with her ponytail.

The bellboy noticed the tension and awkwardness, but didn't say anything. He wasn't suppose to talk anyways.

"That's a nice ring," said Miroku flatly. He wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for the mirrors and the diamond glinting. It's almost as if it was teasing him.

"Thank you," replied Sango quietly.

"What's his name?" he asked, his tone obvious that he didn't care but laced with enough venom to show he already detested the man.

"Kuranosuke Takeda," replied Sango. Then after a moment, "He's a good man. His father was the headmaster at a prestigious school of Arts and Kuranosuke is a professor there."

Miroku said nothing, leaving her answer in the sullen silence. The elevator seemed to move for eternity, going down each floor slowly. There was nothing he could do, nothing to be done. Miroku didn't expect much when he saw her come back. But there was always one part of his heart that hoped, fantasized even, that they would rekindle what was lit 5 years ago.

"Be happy for me," pleaded Sango softly after a long moment of silence. She twisted the diamond around, cursing it for it's huge size and it's visibility.

"I don't know how I could be," said Miroku as calmly as he could. He felt slightly angry, betrayed even, although all of it seemed irrational. The elevator finally stopped and Miroku quickly exited.

& & & & & &

Miroku arranged the knives and forks according to the table setting he was taught. _People eat from out to in, so that means the salad fork goes before the main course meal which would mean, no wait it's wrong._ Miroku let out a groan and started all over again.

"What's bothering you Grumpy face?" said Shippou, folding the napkin into a boat.

"Nothing kiddo," said Miroku as cheerfully as he could. Shippou sniffed as his wonderful boat was smushed and reformed. Miroku plastered a smile and took the boat and folded it into a fan.

"You're lying!" Children are awfully perceptive.

"Miroku, hurry up on the table setting, we need you on the balcony arranging the wine glasses," called out Jakotsu, the head secretary and coordinator of events. Jakotsu was very odd, half the time you can not tell if he's serious or not. He was strangely religious although he never told which faith he belonged to. Jakotsu would often make flirty remarks to Miroku and then rebuke him later on for his flippant social life. Nonetheless he had a good heart, despite his psychotic façade.

Miroku saluted him and quickly tried to gather his mind together. Table settings were soon done as he kept his mind on the spoons and forks in front of him.

"So Miroku, who's this Sango that Inuyasha told me about?" asked Shippou, folding an airplane that looked more like a penguin instead.

Miroku looked at him funny. "Inuyasha told you?" Shippou nodded, dropped whatever he was doing and propped his head up waiting for an answer. Miroku quickly finished the table and went to stack the wine glasses. "Well uh," he stammered, "there's nothing to tell."

"That's not what Inuyasha said!"

"That's it kiddo, what did he tell you?" said Miroku in mock seriousness. "Nothing!" squealed Shippou, running away from the possible tickle attacks.

"That's right, because there is **_nothing_** to tell," repeated Miroku, his eyebrows raised. Shippou muttered _'spoil sport' _ underneath his breath before he bounced next to Miroku by the piano. The Terrace Room was gleaming with regal decorations, glimmering with royalty. The tables had rose petals sprinkled randomly and the chairs had beautiful sashes tied to its' back. Some bachelor party.

Miroku absentmindedly played a few notes. "Well," he began, surprising even himself, "Sango was a close friend of mine and she moved a few years ago. Now she's back and I'm…" he drifted off. What was he? Was he happy to see her? No. He couldn't bring himself to say he was happy. Happy is when you have the biggest dopiest smile on your face that couldn't be wiped off. Happy was when you can't wait to see her again and talk to her. Happy was when you call her and want to make plans.

She was engaged. That surprised him. That definitely didn't put the cherry on his day. So no, he wasn't happy to see her. He wished that of all places he could meet her again, it wasn't here. _Of course meeting her on her honeymoon could've been worse,_ he thought dryly. Marrying a man, who seems promising enough with a future that holds assurance that she will never have to worry.

_Was that what she really wanted?_ Nothing could change people like time could.

"I'm happy for her," he finally said. Shippou eyed Miroku but didn't keep asking. He'd figured that even grown-ups were allowed to act weird some times. What he didn't get was why he had to lie when his frowning face already showed that it was exactly the opposite of how he felt.

"C'mon kiddo, let's practice that song I've been teaching you," said Miroku grinning, as if the past 2 minutes never happened. He launched into a C-scale and waited for Shippou to follow along.

& & & & & &

"I don't get it," said Kikyou. After contemplating of whether to go out to eat or to stay home, they decided to save some money and stayed home to eat. Inuyasha made a nice meal for them both and they sat in front of the TV to eat.

"What's not to get?" said Inuyasha distractedly, watching TV. He quickly picked up a tissue and swiped the sauce off the glass coffee table before it left an invisible stain. He then proceeded to throw the tissue away in the kitchen's garbage can because it might stain the white plastic one outside.

"That's kind of creepy," pointed Kikyou. She blushed a little, realizing it might've sound rude. Inuyasha shrugged as he was well aware of his nitpicks. He slumped back down on the couch, his legs (not accidentally!) landed on top of Kikyou's.

"Ahem?"

Inuyasha gave her the most angelic look he could possibly muster. "I don't get it," she repeated, ignoring his legs.

"About Sango? Or Miroku?"

"Both of them." At first, they were talking about events over the day, (how annoying Miroku was…) when the subject strayed to Sango. Inuyasha saw Sango exiting the elevator, looking distraught. Originally he was going to say hi, but he and Kikyou were already ready to leave.

"Sango and Miroku weren't the best of friends. They met when I first brought him here for a job at this hotel. He was a new waiter, just finished school and he needed a job. He had a knack for catering and a hell lot of people skills so I recommended him."

Kikyou nodded, wiping her mouth on a napkin and crumpled it throwing it onto the table. Inuyasha quickly slipped it into the wastebasket.

"He first met Sango when they were stuck in an elevator. Miroku is slightly claustrophobic, not that he lets anyone know but you do notice that his showers don't last longer than 10 minutes right? Even tiny things like a bathtub and shower curtains make him feel contained. Anyways, he gets really antsy whenever he feels contained and he would start rambling and talking. Sango got so fed up with him that she slapped him."

Kikyou shot her eyebrows up. Both her and Inuyasha knew that if a girl slapped him, it was like pouring a bucket if ice cold water down his shirt. **He hated it.** Possibly the only thing that could piss him off **very** much. Inuyasha nodded agreeing.

"They were enemies. I can't even count how many times they try to sabotage each other. Perhaps her father was the wisest. He saw possible danger that his daughter could fall in love, and that obviously was forbidden."

"Why? Because he's a waiter?" exploded Kikyou, gripping the cushion. Inuyasha didn't say anything but held a passive look in his eyes.

"Her father told her that he was going to send her away. Maybe it was because of that, but the two of them fought less. Before she left she promised Miroku she would come back and bother him, just like old times."

"So why is he chasing after every girl when he's got a winner right here?" asked Kikyou confused.

"It's who he is," shrugged Inuyasha, bringing the plates to the sink to wash.

* * *


	3. Chapter 03

**A/N:** I wish someone would iron my underwear…Anyways! Here's the next installment :) I bet you all thought I was quitting eh? Nah, I'm just slow to write. Anyways, reviews would be greatly encouraging! This story will probably end in around 6 chapters, more if necessary, and nope this won't be identical to Eloise. Thank you to my previous reviewers, I would love to write replies, but I don't know if this is allowed anymore at ff . net O.O

**Warnings:** AU, mild swearing, OOCness for some characters (not too far off, just taken creative license with it and made them more fun and lovable to write about)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha. Anyone willing to lend me Jakotsu?

* * *

**The Suite Life**

Maybe it was working overtime, but that couldn't be it since he was getting paid extra. Next to women, money is probably the most splendid thing he could lay his hands on. Maybe it was because he had to work at a tea party, but that couldn't be it either since the so-called tea party was turning more into a keg-party-with-waiters. It could be the fact that he was a waiter that pissed him off, but that couldn't be it because he liked his job.

Maybe because he was waiting on Kuranosuke that pissed him off. Yes, that must be it. And to make it worse, Kuranosuke was not half bad at all. Correction: this guy was practically like a god. It all started out when Jakotsu refused to serve Kuranosuke's table because he was late to go to church (synagogue or whatever other place he said) and that Miroku _must_ serve that table because no one else is available, and that he'll promise him an _inviting amount of extra pay_ if he did.

It was an offer he couldn't refuse. Not with valid reason anyways, and he didn't have a valid reason.

Go to and from that table would expose more than he would've wanted to hear about Kuranosuke and Sango. About their accidental bumping into each other that seemed so perfect, and how they coincidently went to the same school and also how Sango admired his ability with art (which Kuranosuke humbly declined any praise). It was all too perfect… too movie-like. And yet it was true.

That definitely aggravated him.

And to make to worse, he didn't know **why** it aggravates him so much. Miroku knew that he and Sango weren't an item, were never an item and never will be an item. Didn't happen, can't happen, won't happen. They were friends (in a love-hate relationship), close friends dare he say, but that was it. The line between love and friendship never blurred (did it? He wondered).

Miroku smiled serenely as he collected the plates from the table.

"My compliments to the chef," said Kuranosuke smiling with all (straight-white-toothpaste-commercial) teeth. Miroku returned one but 20 times less genuine. He rolled his eyes inwardly at how disgustingly self-mannered this man was. He yield to the temptation to drink, but had the decency to stay sober enough, unlike his drunken friends who were grinding with some of the girls already.

_Is that Jakotsu making figure eights with his hips on another man twice his size?_ squinted Miroku. They were all probably too drunk to even notice.

"Going to church my ass," he said dryly, as Jakotsu tipped over onto another guest.

Miroku counted his lucky stars and thanked Virgin Mary and whoever else that is a saint, holy and pure that the tea-keg-party was finally over. He was going to rip his head off if he found out any more about Kuranosuke because every time he found something new, he would compare himself with it and find himself falling drastically short.

Not to mention he was already shorter by the man by 3 inches. That, in his opinion, was unacceptable.

He really needed something to take his mind off this. Anything. Women usually worked. He whipped off his apron, changed into his casual wear and made his way towards a night club four blocks from the grand hotel. Drinking away your sorrows never work, but at least you're too drunk to notice.

& & & & & &

She was not purposely looking for a certain waiter. No of course not, she just so happened to be wandering up and down the hall where he usually delivers. And those multiple phone calls for room service was because she was hungry. Yes, that was it.

That didn't explain her disappointment when she saw some other guy delivering it to her. Truth to be told, Sango was hoping (and wanting) to bump into Miroku again. She haven't seen him in almost 5 years? She lost count. Sango missed him greatly for Miroku had been one of her very few friends at the hotel. Her father already warned her of entertaining such ideas, but she hastily pushed it aside.

There were no thoughts to entertain with, she convinced herself. She just missed him and like any other sane person, wanted to meet up with an old friend. Reminisce a little. Miroku always had a knack of making her laugh, or getting her all fired up. It was their arguments she missed most. Well second most. The first would have got to be those diamond studs he always wore.

"It's not so bad wanting to catch up on old times right?" she wondered aloud.

"What did you say, honey?" asked Kuranosuke, emerging from their suite. He was fully dressed in designer jeans and a polo tee.

"He doesn't even have to try and he still looks good," said Sango airily. Kuranosuke blushed, thinking she was talking about him. He quickly kissed her good bye and told her he'll be back by dinner to take her out.

Sango didn't even remember waving good bye because all she could focus on was a familiar show tune that someone was humming around the corner. Warm brown eyes met pools of violet, and for a moment he paused before a layer of midnight glazed over his eyes, shattering any warmth with a blanket of ice.

"Good morning," he said stiffly. Sango smiled cheekily, ignoring the slow hammering in her heart.

"You look like shit," she chirped. Back then it'd be considered a challenge for another verbal fight, but right now, anything that came out of her mouth seemed flirty in her mind. _What's wrong with me?_

"Thank you," he frowned as he took the cocktail glasses from one door and put it on his cart before dutifully continuing down the hall, paying no heed to Sango's presence. He mentally noted that he should tell Kikyou that Mr. Yakima did indeed use his cocktail coupons, lest he tries to rip the hotel off again.

"Where were you last night? I was looking for you. You know, maybe catch up since we haven't seen each other for so long?" she bounced on the balls of her heel. The hall was quiet because morning was still fresh in the air. Not everyone woke up at 7am in the morning, unless you're working of course.

"I was working," he replied shortly, "I **am** a waiter after all." What a way to kill a conversation.

"That you are," joked Sango weakly. Miroku smoothed his apron and continued, stopping at every door that had something in front. Dishes, half-eaten cakes, garbage…

She followed him along the hall and pausing whenever he stopped. "We should go out some time, you know, to catch up, see how you've been, etcetera."

"There's nothing to tell. I'm the same as you've left me years ago. Still the same waiter, making the same pay, doing the same job." There was a hint of annoyance in his voice. One would never know that it was a mask to cover how inferior he felt.

Miroku knocked on the door and shouted 'Room Service.' "Miss Kaede, good morning, your breakfast is here." A mumble in the back and Miroku nodded. "Have a good day ma'am, and lay off those cigarettes, will ya?" He winked at the lady and chuckled.

Sango waited patiently until he was done and continued. "Oh. Why didn't you write?"

He passed four or five doors not answering. Finally Miroku stared at her with a dead expression. He leaned one hand on the cart and looked at her with an expression she couldn't put her finger on. Anger? Skeptical? "You're pulling 'The Notebook' on me."

"What!"

"I've seen this shit in a movie before. Every girl I go out with wants to see this stupid drama full of superficial crap that they think is romance that sinks so deeply in their head. They think that 'The Notebook' is the representation of what true love is. Bullshit."

"What are you talking about?" said Sango slowly, ignoring her ebbing jealousy of 'every girl' that went with him.

"**_Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years. But now it's too late_**," said Miroku in a falsetto, mimicking Allie from the movie. Sango bit her lip from laughing but the scary thing was, Miroku was dead serious.

"No, I'm not going to tell you that I wrote you 365 letters, one for every day of the year," said Miroku calmly once again, "I wrote you 4 letters. And you never wrote back, so I gave up. A man's got to know when to quit. There's a fine line between waiting and looking like a desperate idiot."

"What did those 4 letters say?" said Sango, her voice so quiet it even surprised herself. _I never wrote back?_

"You never read them?" repeated Miroku.

"No."

"Forget it."

"What?"

"Forget it. It doesn't matter now." _Now. It didn't matter anymore, does it?_

"Yeah?" she said.

"Yeah," he repeated.

The two walked on, Miroku not quite sure why Sango was still following him (secretly delighted of course but too suave to show it); and Sango wondering what those 4 letters could be about.

She figured it must be her father that intercepted the letters since the chances of 4 letters getting lost in mailing were slim. What did he write in those letters that would not matter now anymore? Sango's heart did a little jig as she pondered over possibilities. _Confessions of love?_ Sango bit her lip but a smile spread across her face. She knew this wasn't true. Miroku wasn't the mushy type of person.

"So I'm guessing all those girls you took out ended up crying on your shoulders?" joked Sango, realizing it sounded a lot funnier inside her mind than when she choked it out.

Miroku shrugged cockily, his eyebrows raised as he smiled.

"I'll take it that it was a good date then," Sango rambled on not quite sure where this was going.

"Oh it was more than good…" Miroku let on.

"Do they always leave you souvenir lipstick marks on your neck?" Sango asked disgustedly, pointing to a smudge that was now visible on Miroku's neck.

"Only when they put out," he grinned. Sango's eyes narrowed.

"Bastard," she snarled, slapping his head with her purse before stomping away.

& & & & & &

"So I found these really nice towels at Linens N' Things…"

Miroku jingled his keys as he entered the apartment. Inuyasha was on his rampant speech about the money he saved on the latest dishcloths or the difference between Palmolive and Sunlight detergent. He was quite passionate about these things. Poor guy, that could be why he hasn't been on a date in _years_.

"Honey I'm home," he yelled out. Kikyou ignored him and continued to watch her T.V. Inuyasha walked out with a load of laundry in his arms. "Good, start folding."

Miroku sighed and mumbled something about wanting a warm welcome for once as he picked up the shirt and quickly folding it. He saw a flash of off-white fabric and quickly snatched it up. "He brought out the good tablecloths?" he wondered.

"Inuyasha, did you have a date?" Miroku hollered out, running around the apartment to find Inuyasha. He found him in his room, sorting out the dishcloths and tea towels. "You son of a bitch, you had a date didn't you!" he accused, pointing his finger.

"What made you think that, dumbass?" he retorted, grabbing the soft cloth before Miroku's fingers wrinkles the fabric.

"You brought out the good table cloths!"

"…so?"

"So! What do you mean so! This is the GOOD tablecloth we're talking about. The one you bought that WASN'T on sale. And you know, you never buy things that AREN'T on sale," he hyperventilates.

"Why the fuck are PMS-ing over this?" asked Inuyasha annoyed. He grabbed the stack of clean underwear in the white laundry basket (white basket for clean clothes, blue for dirty clothes) and started ironing them.

"You're killing me man, you're killing me," wailed Miroku. If looks could kill, Miroku would be pushing up friggin' daisies by now.

"You're ironing your underwear," he said.

"No, really Captain Obvious?" Inuyasha said sarcastically.

"Can you guys shut up, I'm trying to watch T.V. here!" yelled Kikyou.

"Are you done folding those sheets yet?" he asked her, ignoring her complaint.

"I hate laundry day," she said quietly with venom.

Miroku grabbed his underwear before Inuyasha would start ironing those too. He knew it was wasted effort because Inuyasha irons them anyways, even after he tries hiding them.

"You're crazy," confirmed Miroku. "And you're getting on my nerves," he replied back. "When do I not?" Good point.

"So who did you go out with?" He got a groan in reply.

"Look man, I know it must be something big because you NEVER take the –good– tablecloths out. Like me, I would never share my hotel stationary supplies with anyone unless it's something big."

"That doesn't make sense," Inuyasha argued, "Why would you share your stolen, cheapass, pens and paper with anyone? No one wants them."

"You know those pens write good," Miroku argued back. Only the best of friends could argue the way they could, over things that don't even make sense yet they could carry out a conversation (if you call it that) for a long time.

"Look, it was the time I ate with Kikyou okay?" he said impatiently.

"What? Again? And you didn't tell me?" Miroku asked innocently.

"Yes! Now can you get out?"

"No. Answer me one more question first." Inuyasha gave Miroku the dirtiest look he could give, but that went right past him. Typical.

"Do you have the hots for Kikyou?" said Miroku devilishly. Inuyasha's face turned as red as his sweatshirt.

A wide smile spread across Miroku's face. "No…don't…" Inuyasha tried warning him but he already bolted out of the room. "Oh shit," he sighed. It was too late. The wheels on Miroku's matchmaking-mind was already turning with schemes and **fluffy** date ideas.

& & & & & &

"I hate you."

_What?_

"Umm.."

Kikyou looked up from her work and saw Miroku leaning over her counter as well as Inuyasha.

"To what do I owe the honor of this pleasant unexpecting surprise visit," she said dully to Miroku, but a small smile to Inuyasha. Definitely had more tolerance for Inuyasha than her annoying playboy cousin.

"Unexpecting isn't a word," said Miroku grumpily. Kikyou threw him a pin, which he tried to catch but ended up cutting his palm. "Shit," he cursed looking at the small drops of blood dotting the red oak wood office counter. Inuyasha quickly wiped it up before it bled into the wood leaving a stain.

"Why not turn that frown upside down," replied Kikyou with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

"Maybe this will teach you not to catch every hotel stationary supply she throws at you, cheapskate" suggested Inuyasha. Miroku growled as he blindly groped around for a Band-Aid.

"He's mad that I didn't tell him about the chicken casserole dinner we had," explained Inuyasha. Kikyou smiled grimly, waiting for the tantrum to come. It didn't.

"No, that's not why," Miroku said sourly. "Just make sure you at least tell me about your wedding and I'll be okay."

Kikyou and Inuyasha adverted his gaze, their cheeks coloring a bit. After an awkward pause, Miroku continued. "I'm **petulant**." His roommates both knew that Miroku didn't know what the word 'petulant' meant but didn't say anything.

"Can you believe Sango is engaged?" he quietly exploded so the hotel guests won't notice. Inuyasha shrugged noncommittally. They'd been over this before but the last time he mentioned it, Miroku mumbled it, barely cohesive that no one bothered asking anymore.

"And to who? A fine outstanding scholar who excels in arts. Arts! That's no man!" his voice raised a notch higher. Kikyou took a sip of her orange juice and as patiently as she could, continued to listen before stapling his lips shut. _With the hotel's stapler of course._

"Is this what she wanted? To marry the perfect guy and live a perfect live in a perfect house surrounded by a white picket fence and tulips? She's selling out!" Miroku was now yelling, in a calm tone. **If** that was possible, and with him, anything is.

"Miroku…"

"She changed. The Sango I knew wouldn't have wanted this!" he insisted.

"Miroku…listen…"

"And did you know what she hit me with the other day? A Prada purse. Prada! She could've hocked that and save an entire nation."

"Miroku you fool listen to me!"

"And- what Kikyou?" barked Miroku.

"Why are you getting so worked up over this?" asked Kikyou shaking her head. Inuyasha watched from the side, knowing better than to get involved. He'll step in when necessary (as in if Kikyou decides to tack Miroku's hand onto the table).

"She's my friend," he snapped back quickly.

"You're never that worried about me…"

"I am. But you fucking push me away."

Kikyou's eyes narrowed as he swore. Miroku doesn't swear, not seriously anyways. She bit her tongue before she'd whiplash him back with insults.

"Can I get some service here?" croaked an irritated old lady.

"Just wait a damn minute Kaede," Kikyou snapped. The lady shrank back in terror.

"See? You push everyone away Kikyou. Me. Inuyasha. Everyone! You can't even see with your damn eyes that people around you care for you…"

"And **you** can't see with your damn eyes that you are crazy over Sango. I don't know why you're suddenly getting all possessive over Sango. She's not just a friend to you anymore. I don't know what she is, but figure it out for yourself before she gets married in …oh I don't know… 2 days?"

Miroku licked his dry lips and stood mutely as the biting cold reality grazed across his cheek. Kikyou hit somewhere near home.

* * *


	4. Chapter 04

**A/N:** 140 page views, and only 4 reviews :S Leave me a word of encouragement? Even a simple "update soon!" would be suffice. -does puppy eyes-

**Warnings:** AU, mild swearing, OOCness for some characters (not too far off, just taken creative license with it and made them more fun and lovable to write about)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha. Anyone willing to lend me Jakotsu?

* * *

**The Suite Life**

Today was a big day at the hotel. Guests were pouring in from the busy streets of New York. Snow was dancing in the air, twirling around before settling on the wet pavement of the blanketed city. Buildings were coated like icing on a cake, and the cheery lights shone through prettily. Every few seconds the door would open and a gust of wind could be heard from the outside, and people would quickly clamber in to avoid the cold. A rush of warm air would kiss their rosy cheeks as the guests smiled at the luxurious entrance of the hotel.

Kikyou was having a field day with the guests. For "upper class" individuals, they were all pretty stingy and unsurprisingly snobby. Even Miroku was absent from his daily visits every morning at the counter. Another reason would be because both of them weren't talking to each other.

Miroku sighed as he looked out the door at the busy crowds. His violet eyes had a sad tone, like a pail of grey washed over. His spirits weren't high and if forced to, he would heave a smile and pretend everything was normal. The biting truth of Sango's wedding in 2 days was becoming even more real as he watched Sango greet each guest.

"I bet she doesn't even know half of them," muttered Miroku bitterly. He pushed his hair back and flopped it back again. He felt a teensy bit nervous, aggravated, sad, angry, anticipated…all at once. Like a giant ball of emotions. "Christ, I sound like a chick."

"You're acting like one too," remarked Inuyasha. Miroku death-glared him but didn't say anything.

"You're not even going to hit me?"

That comment was bluntly responded by deafening silence from Miroku.

"You know, you can still take her out for lunch. She's not married so **technically** she's still in the market."

He ignored that one too.

"Heck, you can give her a good lay if you want…"

Miroku slowly counted to 3, mentally swearing but keeping a cool demeanor. _I will not rip his head off, I will not rip _**anything**_ off…_

"I bet she wouldn't mind." That's it.

"You don't know the fuck you're saying," growled Miroku.

"And I thought I was the one who should cut back on swearing," smirked Inuyasha dangerously. Miroku loaded the dishwasher from across the kitchen so he wouldn't be tempted to push Inuyasha inside an oven.

"If she means that much to you…"

"Look she doesn't mean anything," Miroku cut in. Inuyasha squinted at him with a raised eyebrow. Miroku turned away and grumbled something about intimidating-disbelieving-looks.

Miroku quickly finished wiping the counter and checked out for the day. He put apron away and strolled out of the kitchen and to the change room to change into his casual clothes. Dark denim jeans hung loosely at his waist, the waistband of his boxers peeped out but was covered by fitting white button-up and a black zipper-hoodie, left opened. There was a bit of fur on the edge of the hood that tickled his neck.

There was a crowd of people outside, politely nudging the person ahead of them to keep moving. The janitor was trying his best to do his job: mopping the wet floors before someone slips on a chunk of melted snow and falls down, then complains to the hotel staff for inadequate safety measures.

Up ahead of the long lineup was a girl with soft brown hair. She had dark purple eyeliner with fading shades of fuchsia eye shadow on the lid, and under certain light it shimmered. No doubt was put on professionally by some makeup specialist. It was Sango, her face plastered with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, shaking hands with every stranger that walked by. Her eyes screamed boredom.

"Hello," cut in Miroku, hand out ready for a shake. He was not sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. It was as if some foreign alien had channeled into his mind and took over his actions. The woman behind him huffed indignantly and did a once over on his casual attire. He was the only one wearing jeans in the entire lobby.

Sango's smile dropped as she frowned, a bit surprised but at the same time not. "Hi…"

"Just who do you think you are, punk?" tapped the woman, smacking her lips impatiently. Onlookers were pausing to watch what was the commotion. He saw several security guards looking with suspicion as they carefully made their way over.

Miroku sneaked a look out of the corner of his eye and saw Sango's eyes roll like slot machines. He smiled politely to the woman and in as serious of a tone as he could muster, he said, "I'm her boy toy _Raul_, specially shipped from Milan to allow her to indulge wildest fantasies on me that her fiancée couldn't. This is a booty call." Miroku's mind screamed 'what do you think you're doing!'

Both women's eyes widened to the size of golf balls. Miroku tipped his head, said _G'day_, and dragged Sango out quickly.

Miroku stared at her as they both stood outside the hotel in the snowy winter day. The snow was starting to fog Miroku's glasses. Sango blinked twice before realizing where she was.

"Stop staring," she griped. That only made him look deeper. Miroku wasn't quite sure why the sudden change in his mood, but he couldn't deny the fact that upsetting Sango definitely puts a plus to his day.

"What do you think you're doing?" she blurted. Puffs of white air was visible when she spoke.

"I'm taking you out for lunch. You know, catch up on the missed times?" echoed Miroku. Whoever, or whatever, was channeling this, he was starting to like it. He liked how sure it made his voice sound when in fact he had no idea what he was doing. Strange sense of déjà vu washed over Sango, as she hesitantly smiled. "I thought you were mad?"

Miroku faked a look of surprise. "Me? Mad? You must be imagining it."

Neither of them said anything. Miroku stared out on the streets as cars sloshed through the slippery roads. "I didn't know you wore glasses," commented Sango. Miroku had rimless glasses, who's frame was sleek silver. It made his violet eyes even more radiant, and also gave an air of intelligence.

"They don't have prescription. Chicks dig the glasses so they stay," shrugged Miroku. Sango _'tched'_. "Now let's go before that woman comes back with your dad and demand an explanation that I don't have."

"Wait! Where are we going?" Sango called after Miroku as he ran across the street. Miroku didn't answer her, leaving her hesitant of what to do. Then, Sango jaywalked. For the first time in many years.

**& & & & & &**

"I almost got hit by a damn truck you prick," said Sango, slapping him with her purse.

"Ow, what is it with women and their brick-purses? Geez!" complained Miroku, rubbing his arm. Sango sniffed, muttering _heartless_ as she readjusted the strap of the purse on her shoulder.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Remember that old bar down by the-"

"It's 3 in the afternoon, and I don't drink." _Anymore_, thought Sango.

Miroku stared, his brow wrinkled as he pursed his lips. "Well you're no fun. Where's the alcoholic bitch we all know and love?"

Sango gave him a good slap on his head before turning around and walking the other way. Miroku let a grin slip and caught up to her.

"I was going to say, before I was rudely interrupted," said Miroku, his eyes twinkling, "the new McDonalds that recently opened by that old bar."

Going to McDonalds was perhaps the dumbest thing he had ever said yet. It's not that he was cheap, he certainly was a lot more lenient with his income spendings than Inuyasha was. He suggested it because…

"I hate McDonalds," said Sango frowning.

Miroku's eyes smiled amusedly. He wasn't a fan of that fast food restaurant either. The fact that the fries don't digest was enough to make him hurl. "You're the one that wanted to catch up," he shrugged, "If you don't want to go there it's fine, I'll catch you later." He made a notion to leave.

"You won't leave me here," retorted Sango.

_Want to bet?_ Miroku sauntered away, mentally counting before Sango would call him back. _So predictable._

"You bastard!" she exclaimed. Miroku slipped on the sidewalk as Sango pushed him, hard. Her cheeks blushed as she realized how physical she was getting. Physically abusive that is. She couldn't recall the last time she had pushed someone either.

"So," she started, grimacing at her Big Mac while taking a bite out of it.

Miroku waited for her to continue. He took his glasses off and put them on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. They were seated near the windows where they could see the busy crowded street. He stared out at the street, his eyes following the strange pattern of snowflakes falling down.

"I suppose I could tell you what I did in London," mused Sango.

"Other than inherit that ridiculous English accent?"

Evil glare. "I do not have **any** accent," said Sango sharply.

Miroku shrugged nonchalantly, which only pissed Sango off even more.

"Are you saying I'm lying?"

"I didn't say anything," replied Miroku innocently.

"Yes you did, your eyes says it all. You're implying that I sound stupid…"

"You sound like an idiot right now," he chuckled.

Sango was about to retaliate, lash back full on but stopped when she saw Miroku laughing. A genuine smirk turned into a full blown laugh. His eyes crinkled, his mouth slightly opened and peals of laughter slipped through. His shoulders were slouched slightly, and he leaned back casually in the hard chairs. One of his long legs were stretched out to the side while the other occasionally brushed by her leg. Accidentally.

"You are infuriating," hissed Sango as threw her coke at his face. She snatched her purse and overcoat, and walked out.

Miroku blinked. "I hope Inuyasha could get this stain off…"

**& & & & & &**

It was 9:00, meaning another five hours at the hotel before he can go home. Tonight, Miroku didn't mind working a night shift. It would get his mind off things and he wouldn't need to think of excuses to avoid Kikyou. And it also meant there were more chances of bumping into Sango.

It took him an hour to get the coke smell out of his hair. A shower longer than his claustrophobic self would like. He also had to start laundry right away so he could get the crap off the fur on his hoodie. The problem was, he didn't know how to work the washing machine. So he settled for soaking his clothes in the bathtub.

Jakotsu the slave driver was at it again. _What does he want now?_ he thought. The very metro-sexual male was ranting about how the curtains -must- match the chairs and tablecloths or else -everything- is wrong. "Oh Miroku, I'm so glad you're here," smiled Jakotsu, "Here is the list of things to do with this hall. Make it gorgeous, I want this place to look like heaven in time for the heiress's wedding." Jakotsu pranced off before Miroku could respond.

"But I'm only Room Service," said Miroku stupidly, blinking at the list.

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing," joked Inuyasha, popping out of no where.

Miroku stared at him, wondering if it was wise to comment on his sudden cheery behavior. He felt like Scrooge compared to Inuyasha right now. And that was a lot to say. He looked back at the list at hand. The list of errands looked like a clipping out of a Perfect Weddings magazine.

"Why does everything have to match?" asked Inuyasha, peering down at the list.

On the bottom of the paper it said: _Have everything done by 12:00AM, Sango will drop by to inspect. Any changes she want will be made, you are to comply._

"Damn, he set me up," said Miroku muttering under his breath. The irony was dripping. Him help plan for Sango's wedding reception. "Are you playing a joke on me God!" he cried out in mock anger.

Inuyasha blinked. "I thought you believed in Buddha?"

**& & & & & &**

Miroku slouched down over the piano, his head resting on his arms, his legs too tired to move. Who would've thought that people didn't have enough common sense to **not** send folding chairs for a wedding? This hotel was so swanky he doubted that folding chairs had _ever _set foot into the building. His back was tired from standing up for 3 hours straight and his hair was mussed up from the countless pullings while dealing with the delivery men. It was aggravating.

However the room looked enchanting. Most people were gone except for a few that were working the graveyard shift. The room was clothed in silky navy, thin sheets of curtains hung through the window, their black screens letting in light from the city below. The city that never sleeps. The dark room had soft hazy lights aglow from various spots on the wall.

On one side of the room was entirely made of windows instead of walls. There were small tables, seated for two, near the windows. The grand piano was placed in a corner of the room, where a pianist was suppose to play. But for now, they had a portable CD player doing it's job. Soft melodious music spilled through the room. It was like a mini-café, except more magical.

"Maybe I need some orange juice decaf like Kikyou," he muttered. Kikyou's name felt foreign to his lips, even though it had only been a day that he didn't talk to her. The night after the confrontations at the counter, the trio went home in silence. Kikyou went home and slammed the door shut. Miroku did the same locking himself in his room. Inuyasha only cursed, "Feh, bunch of retards," and went to watch his soap operas.

It felt weird to be in an argument with his cousin. Sure they argue everyday, but it was out of good nature. It had been a long time since they ignored each other like that.

"Do you always talk to yourself, or is it 'cuz you're always this lonely?" said Sango. _When did she come in?_

"What can I say? I'm my own best company," said Miroku coolly. Still, despite his unfaltering blasé demeanor, the slight droop in his eyelids told her that Miroku was tired. Sango's heart did a lurch when a thought crossed her mind. _He looks good._ The thought left her mind quickly but the tingling feeling in her heart didn't abate.

"What are you staring at?" asked Miroku sleepily, scratching the back of his neck. He didn't want to move so he laid still, sprawled over the piano.

Sango tried not to look at the way his pants fit his legs so well. "Ahem," coughed Sango. Miroku hastily checked the time on his watch. 12:15AM.

"You're late," he said.

"The client is never wrong," she waved it off.

_Right._ "Let's talk about your _reception_ then," said Miroku, slightly bitter if not tired. Emphasis on 'reception' made Sango's stomach turn. Getting married in a day, the day after tomorrow. Felt like the apocalypse was coming.

"Let's talk about this over some food, I'm hungry for a snack."

"I'm still working," stated Miroku, pointing to his uniform. Sango rolled her eyes and ripped the tie and apron off him.

"Now you're not, let's go."

"So efficient," muttered Miroku, pushing away any less-than-decent-ideas invading his mind.

The two sat at a table in a desert café. If it wasn't for their current situation, it'd make an ideal date spot. Fountains, jazz, window looking out to the nightlights. Miroku unbuttoned the collar button that was choking him and relaxed.

"Do you always gorge on cheesecake every night?"

"Yes, why?"

"Your figure would say otherwise," noted Miroku lightly. Sango blushed at the compliment.

"So, about that wedding," started Miroku. He wasn't quite sure how to continue so his statement hung in the air. He still wasn't in terms with his feelings. He wasn't even sure if he had feelings for her. Though it was apparent to everyone else, he was still doubtful. No doubt he was jealous that Sango was getting married to another man, but why? It's not like they were an item to begin with. Were they?

"Are you even listening?" complained Sango.

"No," he admitted, "I'm not interested. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay…"

"I'll ask you a question, and you answer, and vice versa."

"Like 20 questions?"

"I guess."

Miroku twiddled his thumbs, thinking of which question to ask first. Thankful for the waiters interruption, the tension lightened. He stared at Sango, daring her to look away. "Did you date anyone while you were away?"

Sango chewed thoughtfully on her cake. "No one other than Kuranosuke." _How sweet_, he thought dryly.

"And you?"

"Yeah, quite a few. The one that last the longest was… half a year."

Sango's hand slipped as her fork made a screeching sound against the plate._ Oops. _Miroku raised an eyebrow. She smiled weakly and shrugged. Miroku sat back, his legs brushed by hers. He felt his cheeks color, and wisely didn't say anything. He hoped she didn't notice.

Sango shifted in her seat, her eyes drilling holes into the plate.

"Did you have sex in London?"

Sango snapped her head, staring at him incredulously. "That's none of your business!" The dark room was quiet and if anyone that was there pretended they were invisible just so they could eavesdrop.

"I'll take that as a no," he taunted. _I hope it's a no_, said his possessive side.

"What about you?" blurted Sango before she could take it back. She didn't want to hear the answer to that one when it's so obvious that it was a…

"Of course." Sango bit the inside of her mouth and put down the fork. She didn't feel like eating. Miroku however finished off his slice and was already ordering for a second one.

"Uhm," said Miroku, his cheeks bulging with food, "Do you really want to get married?"

Sango felt the familiar beating in her heart again. _Steady_, she thought bringing her hand to her chest. "I guess," she said quietly.

"You guess? Elaborate," said Miroku. It appeared that he wasn't taking this seriously as he had called the waiter for another two slices. But he was as tentative as ever.

"I pass then," replied Sango.

"You can't pass…"

"My turn," she said with finality. "What were in those letters you wrote me?"

Miroku stared for a moment before realizing what letters she was talking about. "Oh. I pass?"

Sango shook her head, smirking. He licked his lips and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He pushed the glasses up his nose and watched Sango for any response. She sat there passively waiting.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said quietly.

"Why?" she mouthed.

"Well…" he drifted off. He looked out the window and saw that it haven't stopped snowing. There was at least a feet of snow outside. He remembered last year when him and Shippou were outside making a snowmen during his work time (playing hooky what else?). Shippou asked why everyone makes such a big deal out of the stupid snow, and he replied with something about "nothing but warm memories, kiddo."

Miroku smiled, remembering how he got yelled at by Inuyasha for wanting to save the snowman's head in the freezer. He got his salary docked _twice_! Amongst that, it was also the time when Sango left for London. Of course he didn't know the exact time she left until he woke up 2 hours too late the next morning.

His memories weren't warm, but it seemed like the rest of the world chose this time to fall in love.

"Remember how I poured that bucket of fresh snow in your face that one morning?" asked Sango, laughing in her own reminisce. He chuckled lightly, his eyes in a far away look.

"I…"

Her stomach felt warm as she listened attentively, anticipating for the answer. Hoping and wishing it was the confessions that she daydreamed about years ago. Something in Sango's mind nagged her that this wasn't right. _ I'm just curious, this means nothing_, she thought, pushing away her conscience.

"I…" he open his mouth and then shut it again. His eyes narrow as he bit his lip. Sango watched his chest rise slightly with every breath.

"I wrote that I loved you and would wait for you to come back…"

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Her throat felt dry and even though she wanted to say something, her heart pulled it back down. She had so many things to say at once she couldn't decide what to say. Sango calmed her breathing down and tried to look passive.

"Really?" What was suppose to come out as disinterested came out more astounded than she hoped.

Miroku took a sip of his glass. "No. I was just messing with you," he pulled a big grin. He stood up and got ready to leave. "No one said we had to answer truthfully right?" his smirk was maddening.

Sango's jaw opened and shut like a fish. Her eyes blinked a few times and glared. _Bastard._

"I uh, only have 20 dollars with me…so thank you, for your treat." Miroku left before she pummeled him to hell with her purse. He had ordered almost half of an expensive cheesecake after all, but he wasn't quite sure if he was being damned for that.

* * *

Leave me some love! Review please? 


	5. Chapter 05

**A/N:** LAST CHAPTER! This chapter will seem a bit choppy, but that is intentionally done. Weddings are chaotic, so it's fitting that I'd write with a similar sense. The ending is intentionally done like that, and no, there will be no sequel, so it's up to you to decide what becomes of Sango and Miroku. Thank you all for your reviews!

**Warnings:** AU, mild swearing, OOCness for some characters (not too far off, just taken creative license with it and made them more fun and lovable to write about)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha. Jakotsu is unattached, right:)

* * *

**The Suite Life**

Sango crept around slowly in her father's office. It was dawn, barely five in the morning but she felt extremely awake. Not even booking two hours down of sleep, she got up again. The hotel was never still, never quiet. Even in the wee hours of night, people were moving in and out, hotel staff never ceased to pause. The only difference was that her father left his office for his routinely half-an-hour coffee break.

She blew the dust off the shelves and skimmed for any envelopes slipped in-between the books. None. Carefully picking the hairpin from her hair, she picked the lock on the top drawer of the desk. Inside laid a few documents, a stash of expensive pens, a few envelopes… Sango picked the 4 faded color envelopes within the pile and skimmed through the address. The writing was strangely recognizable.

Without a beat, she quickly took the letter opener and sliced through the envelope, greedily reaching for what's inside. In plain paper, a bit faded were a few words. This one was dated the day after she left the hotel for London.

_I observed unspoken confessions from your eyes.  
I'm angry at you for leaving.  
What's more, I am confused.  
Why?_

Sango wondered why the letter was so brief and so vague. Putting that one aside, she opened the second enveloped and peered inside. This time the piece of paper was wrinkled, as if it took the writer strenuous effort to express themselves.

_I don't know how to say this.  
Your father would say no.  
Your mother would say no.  
My friends would say impossible.  
I don't know how to say it.  
Clichés be damned.  
I am in like with you._

She read, and reread it over again. And then once more to make sure she read correctly. This letter was dated 3 months after her leave. Sango breathed softly, her eyes fluttering over the piece of parchment in her hand._ In like. _The words had a hint of sweetness. Putting that one aside, she eagerly opened the third one. This one, unlike the others, was not as short and vague but rather an inundation of frustration.

_At first I thought you didn't reply because you didn't feel the same way. But being the confident asshole I am, I was convinced you were only too shy to tell me. So I waited. When you gave me your address, I assumed that you wanted me to write to you. I also assumed you would write back. Please do. I know you're busy with school, but I can't wait forever without dying of curiosity as to how you feel in return._

Sango noted that this letter was sent 6 months subsequent to the one before. She wondered what she would've done if she had receive those letters back then. She would've replied, writing back with equal fervor. She smiled acrimoniously at the memory of leaving that day. She was so eager and excited to go to London since all her life she had lived in the hotel. This was her chance to visit another place, experience another sort of education and have a jump start to the rest of her life. She also remembered the crumpled look on Miroku's face when she told him. She flipped him off for being jealous and pushed aside his uncharacteristically non-response. She remembered her disappointment that he didn't make it a point to make her stay.

_I get it._

This last letter was written in an angry scrawl, dated a year after the previous letter. The clock ticked 5:30. Quickly gather all the letters, she shoved them inside her purse and went off.

& & & & & &

"Hey retard," said Kikyou.

"Hi…" he replied cautiously, eyeing at her for speaking to him. If she noticed, she didn't say anything.

"Big day huh?"

"I guess," said Miroku flatly. He was clearly not as excited as the others were about the extravagant wedding preparations to be done today.

"I thought about what you said," said Kikyou, cleaning her workspace.

"What did I say?" It had been a day or so that they haven't talked, but it felt like it had been weeks. Miroku had lousy memory. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what he said. Heck, he couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast yesterday.

"Inuyasha," she prompted. Miroku's mouth opened to an 'O' to show he was on the same level as her.

"Yes," she nodded. "He told me that…"

"You guys are two peas in a pod? A match made in heaven?"

"No," she interrupted firmly, glaring at Miroku. "He said," she stuttered and blush uncharacteristically, "he 'was deeply in like with me' ."

Miroku's mouth dropped open. No way. That son of a bitch stole his thunder!

"What?" asked Kikyou biting her lip. "Was it too cheesy? Does he say that to every girl? Should I have not fallen for it? God, I knew it. I should've known. I can't believe I said yes. I'm so stupid I-" She was cut off by a hug from Miroku. "Don't worry about it," he whispered. Strangely enough, Kikyou obeyed and let go.

& & & & & &

Sango grumbled as the lady fussed over her gown. She was tired of trying on a hundred different gowns. You would've thought she'd have one picked out by now, and she did, but her mother butchered over the lack of lace or the abundance of frills and any other little detail that a normal person deemed as 'unimportant.' In all fairness, she really liked the one she had on right now. Soft white silk felt so comfortable on her skin. She loved the frills in the front and the complicated bow behind.

"Try this tiara on," said Jakotsu appearing out of no where. Sango screamed happily and latched onto Jakotsu with a big hug. Jakotsu returned the hug with an equally girly sigh. "You look darling, Sango."

Sango smiled at the compliment.

"Getting married eh? You must be excited," murmured Jakotsu as he adjusted the tiara on Sango's head. "No, too big," he said to himself, picking up a daintier tiara.

Excited? Sango didn't think so. The only thing she had been doing the past few hours was grumble at the lady's incessant badgering.

"Are you sure about this?" said Jakotsu light-headedly. Sango wasn't quite sure if he was pointing to her choice of dress or something else.

"This one looks good, does it not?" he said, ushering Sango over to the full length mirror. Sango stared at the girl in the reflection. Hair stylishly piled up, delicate curls framing her face. The dress billowing beneath her. The tiara glittered amongst her hair. She turned to say something to Jakotsu but he suddenly disappeared.

"Figures," she mumbled. Her eyes wandered the door way and found Miroku quickly walking to somewhere. Maybe it was a trick of the eye because she swore she saw him glancing at her. But when she opened her eyes again he was gone.

& & & & & &

"They say you never truly know a person until you have lived with them," said Inuyasha. Sango had invited him and Miroku out for lunch since she had wanted to get away from all the relatives gushing over her. Miroku however had not come. Sango tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing," he smirked, "Just warning you of the future arguments you and your fancy schmancy husband will have." Sango seriously doubted it.

"When are **you** going to tie the knot?" she countered. Inuyasha's ears turned red and muttered something indistinctively about surviving the first date first.

"So, you're really sure about this?" he asked. Second time today that someone has asked her that.

"Of course I am," she said defensively. "I don't think there's room for doubt at a time like this," she added.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

& & & & & &

"Sis, I'm happy for you," nodded Kohaku. Her little brother was sitting in her room doing nothing but stare at his sister pacing. "You're really lucky," he added.

Sango nodded to show she heard him and continued walking. She tried getting rid of her nerves by focusing on walking in a straight line but her mind seemed to scramble everywhere. Cold feet? No. No, right?

"Why did you say I'm lucky?" she suddenly asked.

"Because Kuranosuke is a great guy, he'll treat you good," said Kohaku cheerfully. "And he will bring a good name to our hotel."

He was successful, rich, had a plan in life, treated her like she was queen…of course Kohaku said she was lucky. Anyone would have.

& & & & & &

"So tell me why again you decided to leave?" said Inuyasha, crossing his arms.

"Because it would completely slaughter me if I have to go through the process of watching her get married and tying the damn knot," said Miroku without batting an eye.

"Wouldn't it be worse if you don't tell her anything at all?" protested Kikyou, propping herself to sit on the clean kitchen counter. He noted that Inuyasha made no notion for her to get off.

"Just because you two are sickly happy and _in like_, you don't have to force me into this mush," he replied, adding the garnish to each plate of veal. _Veal is disgusting_, he randomly noted.

The couple's cheeks tinted pink, quickly unlacing their hands.

"You're not being fair to her," Kikyou argued.

"I am a damn waiter," said Miroku as if that explained it all.

"You two are both idiots," concluded Inuyasha.

& & & & & &

"Miroku!" Sango called out. Several people turned but he kept on walking. Miroku sighed as he felt her grip on his shirt. He was hoping to avoid her the whole day so he wouldn't have to deal with oh I don't know, unsorted feelings? He blinked, pasted on his regular charming smile and turned to look at her. "You're not chasing me for the bill for that cheesecake are you?" he winked.

Sango opened her mouth and shut it, then opened it again. "Are you coming to the wedding?"

"No," he said instantly, wincing at how quick he was to reply.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"I'm busy," he said, licking his suddenly dry lips.

"Too busy to even come to **my** wedding!"

His face crumpled, and if any hurt appeared in his eyes, he tried, with only God knows how much strength, to keep it hidden. "I'm leaving the city at 5, I'm sorry to miss the reception." He said the last part flatly with no emotion.

"So, any last words?" said Sango, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"I'll come bug you next time," said Miroku lightly, last smile wearing thin on his face. He turned around to go back to the kitchen when he heard a faint reply.

"I get it."

& & & & & &

"Kuranosuke?"

"Yes dear?"

"How do you know when you're doing the right thing when in fact you feel like it's the wrong thing?"

"I don't know."

Sango nodded lightly and continued to look at the list of guests arriving tomorrow afternoon. "Are you worried?" said Sango suddenly, remembering her conversation with Inuyasha.

"About…?"

"What if we start fighting once we move in together? What if you don't like what I cook? Or we can't decide on which house we want?"

"We don't fight so don't worry," smiled Kuranosuke. Sango blinked. He was right. They never fight. Or argue.

"So what do you think our future will be like?" Sango ventured on.

"I will work, and you can be at home, feeding our babies and making sure they grow into strong children with your spunk and my good looks," said Kuranosuke distractedly, swigging the wine glass around. Sango let out a laugh, even though she didn't feel like laughing and went to bed even though her mind was far from ready to rest.

& & & & & &

_Wedding day._

Miroku stepped outside, his boots crunching on the snowy ground. It was getting dark fast, as the street lamps flickered on. He slugged the bag over his back and walked to the bus station to catch his ride to the airport.

"I, fucking, hate you."

He turned around to see Sango, wearing a turtleneck and jeans, hand grasping a few sheets of paper.

"Excuse me?" was all he managed to say.

Sango took a deep breath and walked up to him until they were less than two inches away. She held up the letters. His letters. Miroku's face paled slightly.

"Where did you find those?"

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" demanded Sango. "I gave you so many chances to talk to me today. You wussed out. Is this what you were going to do? Leave me there? To get married? And never letting me know? What if I hadn't found these letters?"

"You would still be here," he said calmly.

"What?"

"You would still come here," he said simply. Sango broke his gaze as she rubbed her forehead with a gloved hand, shaking her head.

"I hate how you do this to me," she said quietly if not, affectionately.

"You should go back," offered Miroku.

"I should," she agreed.

His heart sank a bit but continued, "They're all waiting for you."

"Yes, all my relatives, business people that I don't know, my parents, my fiancé are all there wondering where I am," she amended.

He nodded. "It'd be a shame for you to skip out on the wedding. That cake cost more than one year of my salary."

Sango laughed and grin wickedly, "Yeah it is a great cake. Me and Kuranosuke picked it out together."

"Then go."

"I should. They're all waiting. And it takes forever to put on that dress and get my hair done."

"Then go."

"Kuranosuke is probably there talking to my parents of our future. His stable job and steady income that will support me no matter what for the rest of my life."

"Then go."

"I ought to get back."

He nodded, wondering why she still haven't left yet.

"What do you think Miroku?" The focus shifted to him. Sango smirked at his lost expression –his eyes were twinkling with uncertainty.

"Was a safe life what I always wanted?"

"No," he replied.

"Am I making the right choice?"

"No."

"Should I marry Kuranosuke?"

"No?"

"Then I won't."

**The End.**

* * *


End file.
